Behind Locked Doors
by barefoot11
Summary: Matthew had never known what dirty socks smelled like until Gilbert moved in. Human names used, Canada/Prussia if you squint, one-shot.


Never in his life – and Matthew had had a very long life so far – had he ever dreamed he'd be doing this. Even if the thought had crossed his mind, it was probably in his nightmares. He frowned thinking about it. He stood in the middle of his own living room, with slippers on his feet, a duster in hand, a loose bandanna tied around his head and an apron hanging from his neck.

He looked like a housewife.

Growling, he realized the exact reason why he did. His worthless housemate, that annoying Prussian! Gilbert had even bought him the apron and duster for Christmas! At the time, Matthew had thought it a nice sentiment (he did like staying cleanly) but now he began to see an ulterior motive. Before, Matthew didn't have to go on 'cleaning sprees' – his house was always clean! He had been cleaning the main floor of his abode for some time, and only when he heard choked laughter from his couch did he understand why his appearance was so humorous. "Be quiet, Gil!" He said stressfully, leaning over his couch to get a better look at the lump lazing upon it. "It's your fault I'm doing this, anyway!"

Gilbert sat up so quickly that it nearly crashed their heads together. "Me?" His dashing smile countered his innocent tone. "What do I have to do with it?" His eyebrow rose.

Leaning back and crossing his arms, Matthew huffed, "Ever since you moved in two weeks ago, this house has been a mess!"

Disinterestedly, the silverette imitated him under his breath then exclaimed, "Well, you like cleaning, don't you?"

"Yes," the Canadian admitted after a moment, "but not after you! You're older than I am. You should be the responsible one." He found it unfair how he'd always been taking care of other his whole life, mainly Alfred, Francis and Gilbert… but still, it did count for something. Why was he always putting up with it?

With a shrug, Gilbert only replied with a dismissive, "Eh" as he lay back down.

Matthew gave a feminine moan and said, "Well, I'm cleaning your room next. I can only imagine –"

Once again, Gilbert sat up so quickly that it was heart stopping. "No! Nu-uh, no," he exclaimed a bit shrilly, his countenance expressing distress. "Didn't we set up rules when I first came? 'No snooping around the other's room', or something like that?!"

"Hm," said Matthew curiously, "It's amazing how you seem to _just remember that now_!"

"Hey!" the silverette defended, putting his hands up, expressing helplessness, "I was only curious."

"You didn't have to trash my room, looking through all my drawers!" Old anger bubbled up inside of him like steam.

He shrugged again. "I don't know. You just seemed like someone that would have a dirty secret locked in your room…" Recalling the incident, Gilbert remembered finding nothing of interest. The most condemning thing in the room was a PG-13 movie, rated for violence and mild cursing! He could have sworn that the blonde was more interesting than that…

With a twitch in his brow, Matthew cleared his voice and said, "We're getting off topic. I'm cleaning your room, and you can't stop me!" The arrogant tone was just for effect. Honestly, he didn't feel like launching himself to a room most likely filled with toxins… He turned on his heels, and stalked toward the hallway.

Gilbert was up like a rocket, hurrying after his friend. "Don't you dare!" He yelled helplessly, as he watched the blonde grip the handle to his door.

"Watch me," Matthew hissed, pushing the door open. Instantly, he regretted it. A wave of nausea hit him from just the sight of the room. He had never known what dirty socks smelled like before Gilbert had moved in, and now, that scent, with many other things, seemed to slap him across the face. He pinched his nose. The bed was hidden underneath many articles of clothing, which, by the looks of them, had been slept on. Across the room, the dresser with the large mirror had many wrappers and miscellaneous objects on the counter and taped to the mirror itself. The closet in the back was wide open, unveiling shirts that were only half on hangers, unpacked boxes, and trash. On the floor were more clothes and more pieces of garbage that Matthew could even count. And, beside the dirty beside table, was a large garbage can that was _completely empty_. He cleared his throat, feigning calmness. Turning to the owner of the room, who had crept up behind him like a frightened rabbit, he conversationally asked, "How do you manage to live in here?"

Gilbert shook his head. "I mainly live on your couch, actually…"

The fury building in Matthew's chest was itching to explode, but he held it off. "How do you sleep in this room, then?"

"Very quietly," the silverette mockingly replied, "and with my eyes closed."

_Does he live just to piss me off?!_ Matthew's mind surged and he cast a discreet glare at his housemate.

Gilbert yawned widely, then patted the blonde once on the shoulder. "Have fun!" He turned around, and began to stroll back to the safe, welcoming living room when something clutching his wrist in a death hold widened his eyes and stopped his feet.

"Oh, you're not going anywhere," was the menacing growl behind him, and Gilbert fleetingly thought, _I've lived a good life; I have no regrets...  
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_**A/N**: It's short, and slightly pointless, but I couldn't get it out of my head. x3 I was supposed to focus on the whole housewife!Canada thing, but the subject of Gilbert's room came up and I had to. I just had to. ;3 I might try again, following the housewife idea, but who knows..._  
_


End file.
